


SPN 30

by flight333



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Fluff, M/M, Out of Character, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stomach Ache, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:23:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4967920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flight333/pseuds/flight333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I'm quite inspired by the whole 30 days of Fatlock challenge thing and I thought...Supernatural needs something like that too!<br/>Expect lots of belly rubs, intense fluff, and some sexy times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Days 1 & 2

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: What is your pairing to fatten up?  
> Day 2: Who likes to fatten whom up?  
> Day 3: Mutual gaining?  
> Day 4: Measurement and weigh in  
> Day 5: Tummy kisses  
> Day 6: A fight (made up with sexy times and/or food)  
> Day 7: Eating Competition  
> Day 8: Hunting  
> Day 9: New set of clothes  
> Day 10: All day stuffing  
> Day 11: Mutual Stuffing  
> Day 12: Trying on old clothes  
> Day 13: Going out for the day  
> Day 14: Boozy belly  
> Day 15: Tummy ache  
> Day 16: Belly videos/some sort of documentation  
> Day 17: Perspective from friends/family  
> Day 18: Button popping  
> Day 19: Oblivious gaining  
> Day 20: Size comparison  
> Day 21: Waddle-comments  
> Day 22: Thanksgiving  
> Day 23: Temporary immobility  
> Day 24: Maybe some modeling/strip tease?  
> Day 25: AU!  
> Day 26: Revisit the eating competition but do even better this time!  
> Day 27: All-you-can-eat  
> Day 28: What happens when you leave him home alone for the day…  
> Day 29: Tummy rubs.  
> Day 30: Sex.

Day 1: What is your favorite pairing to fatten up?  
Day 2: Who likes to fatten whom up?

 

Deans having a hard time concentrating on what Sam is saying. Something about the Internet. Going through deleted files? Instagram? Wait, nothing on the Internet really gets deleted? Dean’s not sure. There’s a shit ton of food in front of him. He’s a little more interested in the way his suit pants are feeling a bit tight at the waist as he continues to shovel cafeteria food into his mouth. It doesn’t concern him; the dining hall at Kasem College is stocked with every kind of cuisine known to man. And even better, it’s buffet style. 

Buffet.

Style.

Dean is in heaven. He shirks off the smirk Sam throws at him and shoves the remnants of his double bacon cheeseburger into his mouth, moving on to the Thai noodles. If he had known this is what college was like, he probably would have tried harder in school. Maybe. Who knows. Either way, he’s glad he’s getting the chance now. Oh, what was Sammy saying?

Probably not important. Not while he still has food in front of him.  
810\. Area code? Maybe it’s an address…oh!

“I’m going to see if I can get the rest of this to go,” Dean cuts his brother off. 

He pushes away from the table and grunts a little as he stands, not expecting the simple act of going from sitting to standing to be so problematic as it compresses his tummy. He’s feeling a bit heavy and sluggish, but the food is way too good, too free, and too abundant to stop now. 

Back in the Impala, Sam drives so Dean can finish eating. He’s made his way through five different nationalities of food now – from American to Japanese. He’s working his way through the last dish: a sundae topped with a pile of whipped cream, hot fudge and rainbow sprinkles. It’s getting hard to swallow, and Dean has the self-awareness to think that he probably should have stopped after the Mexican. But he’s almost done and there’s no way he’s going to give up now, not when it’s dessert that’s in question. He slurps the melting ice cream noisily and hisses out breathy burps in between each bite. He feels the stretch of his belly pushing against his white shirt buttons and thinks about how nice it would be to pop the button of his dress pants to relieve the building pressure just a little. He doesn’t do it though, because while he’s only in the car with his brother/lover who has seen him in every form possible, he’s truly enjoying the aching pressure dwelling inside his belly right now. He’s always been a big eater. He’s a big guy though, and it takes a lot of food to totally fill him up and he hasn’t always had the means to indulge to this extent of overfullness that he loves so much. The pleasure of the pressure is unparalleled. 

By the time he finishes his last bite, Dean’s feeling more than a little drunk from the heavy load inside his tummy and definitely more than a little uncomfortable. He throws the empty container into the back seat carelessly and leans back all the way in his seat with a loud groan. 

Sam shoots him a look of amusement and doesn’t even try to hide the interest he has in his brother’s belly.

“Had enough there, baby?” Sam asks him as he reaches out with his right hand to prod his brother’s distended gut. The prodding jostles Dean’s engorged stomach enough to release a big, wet burp that has Dean sighing wantonly at the much-needed release of pressure. 

“Mmmmmmmm” Dean moans and cradles his tummy in his hands. It’s gurgling every now and then, lethargically attempting to digest the onslaught of carbs he just inhaled. All Dean wants to do is lay down on a comfortable surface and bask in the glow of fullness. He feels like a hibernating bear, logy and slothful as he palms the swell. 

His brother’s prodding has turned into a slow belly rub and Dean feels so relaxed, so stuffed and satiated, and more than a little aroused by the gentle hand on his sensitive skin. Unfortunately, they’re on a case, he remembers belatedly as the Impala pulls up to a standard suburban house. The belly rub stops, and Dean feels the loss of his brother’s warm, strong hand through his shirt. And then Sam is getting out of the car and going around the side to open Dean’s door. 

“Time to get to work!” Sam exclaims, all too cheerily as he reaches out a hand to help his brother out.

Sam is truly a sadist, Dean thinks as he clutches his belly with one hand trying not to jostle it too much. There’s a lot packed in there, and he only just finished eating a moment ago. That is not enough time to let the contents settle. It feels like there’s a boulder inside of him and his pants are pinching his tender skin. Dean groans dramatically. He did this to himself; he knew they were on a case. He just couldn’t help himself! And now he has a bellyache. This was going to be a long interview.  


“God Sammy have some mercy, take smaller steps or something,” Dean whines as he tries to keep up with his brother on the long journey to the woman’s front door. In reality it’s only a few short strides, but the slightest movement aggravates the situation inside Dean’s belly right now and by the time they make it to the door he’s panting a little, there’s sweat on his hairline, and his stomach is cramping something fierce as he casually puts his hand on it to offer the slightest comfort. 

Inside the woman’s house Dean finds it difficult to act normal. Sitting on her couch he’s squirming to shift the pressure in his gut, he’s stifling burps and hiccups, but holding back the release is only adding to the pressure, making him more bloated and uncomfortable. He’s beginning to sweat profusely as his body works hard to digest, but indigestion from the weird mix of foods has set in too. He’s a mess, and he just has so many regrets. Sam asks most of the questions, as Dean is almost positive he won’t be able to open his mouth without letting something other than words out. He can only hope it won’t be vomit. 

An audible growl emanates from the middle of Dean’s tender belly, and he is forced to subtly stifle another burp into his fist. The pressure is just too intense.

“Which way’s the restroom?” He asks after swallowing thickly a few times to ensure it’s safe to speak without spewing.

The interviewee points him down the hall, and Dean lumbers his way out of the living room, catching the tail end of Sam making excuses for his behavior. Something about too much coffee…Dean doesn’t care, he just needs some relief.

In the privacy of the bathroom Dean moans aloud, turns on the tap water, sits down on the toilet lid, leans back, pops the button on his pants, and gets to work rubbing his belly. He has to get some burps out, otherwise his belly will literally explode, which will give Sammy a bigger problem than getting rid of the technologically savvy ghost. He rubs himself firmly and clockwise, giving himself a few hearty pats, trying to work out the gas. After a few minutes of this he finally feels bubbles starting behind his belly button, and he kneads his hands in to work it up his throat. The relief is astounding and immediate, and for a moment Dean almost feels like he could go for round two at the Kasem College cafeteria. His belly is still taut and aching, and begging for a good lie down on a bed, but he buttons his pants back up, turns off the tap, and shuffles back into the living where Sam (thankfully) is wrapping up the interview. 

They shake hands with the woman, and Sam and Dean head back outside to the Impala where night has fallen.

“You okay?” Sam questions when Dean refuses Sam’s exchange of the car keys. 

“Too bloated” Dean replies honestly. His stomach hurts, and he doesn’t have it in him to say he’s fine like he usually would. He just wants to get back to the motel and stretch out on his bed.

“Poor baby. Although I have no clue why you’d eat yourself sick when we were working a case,” Sam can’t help but remark. 

Dean’s reply is a pained moan and a grunt as he settles into the car seat. His hands immediately go to his pants button, which he pops to let his stomach swell out further. He un-tucks his button down shirt and his undershirt and shoves a hand up under to rest it on his bulging stomach which is still full and churning and just angry at him despite it being over an hour since he finished that sundae. He closes his eyes.  
Sam’s right of course. Dean has many regrets.

He loves to indulge, but he should really remember to do it at home, where he has access to a bed and the ability to eat without his pants on, and when they’re not working a case. 

 

He opens his eyes to a warm hand on the crest of his belly and his beautiful brother stroking his hair to wake him up.

“Come on gorgeous, up and at’em. There’s a nice comfy bed waiting for you” Sam coaxes when Dean grumbles at the prospect of moving. Now that he’s awake, Dean is reminded of his bellyache, the distention having only gotten worse as digestion progresses and bloats him up. Dean complies though, because he’s been craving that bed since the bellyache started. He moans and grunts and cradles that tummy, but he makes it into the motel room, flopping down on the first bed. The flopping motion unsettles his stomach further and unearths a sloppy belch followed by a hiccup.

“Oooooooooh” Dean moans unhappily. He is fully convinced that his belly should not hurt this much. Sure he ate like seven different full-sized dishes, but it’s been at least two hours. Surely that’s been plenty of time for it to run its course through his body. Maybe there was something wrong with those noodles.

“Sammy I need you” he whines. Sam is digging through their first-aid kit looking for some Alka-Seltzer tablets to settle his baby’s belly enough to let him get some sleep. He finds what he’s looking for and looks up to see Dean’s grimaced pout.

“I know baby I’m coming,” He reassures, and then quickly goes to the bathroom to get a cup of water and drop a tablet into it before making his way back to Dean’s side of the bed.

He places the cup on the bedside table, and starts taking off Dean’s pants, pulling them down slowly so as not to jostle the belly anymore than necessary. With the pants gone, he starts in on unbuttoning the shirt and removing the undershirt. 

In just his boxer briefs, Dean is a thing of beauty with his pale and freckled belly taut and shining, tight and rounded as a watermelon. His perfect, plump lips downturned in a pout, the pinch in between his eyebrows and the crinkles by his eyes giving away his discomfort. 

Dean is moaning softy and that belly is squealing like crazy and Sam pities the ache his lover must feel. He shucks off his clothing, crawls into bed and lays a gentle hand on the stretched organ. He moves his hand around the soft skin, stroking lightly at first, but then graduating to firm circles as he feels Dean begin to relax and sigh pleasurably. Before long, Dean is emitting soft snores, and Sam allows himself to be lulled to sleep by the rumbling sounds of his lover’s tummy digesting his massive gorge and the pleasant thoughts of this little belly and how he would like to see it stuffed to it’s capacity more often so he can rub and cherish it forever.

 

 

Dean wakes up the next morning feeling bloated with his gut churning like his stomach is still struggling to digest everything he packed into it the day before. He thinks maybe he’ll take it easy on the food today, he had his indulgence yesterday and that should satisfy him for a while. Sam comes out of the bathroom, steam billowing out from behind him, a towel wrapped around his waist and rivulets of water dripping down his tan, sculpted torso. He approaches Dean and lays his palm flat on his brother’s belly button. His tummy, although less bloated than last night, still holds a hint of roundness, and Sam just wants to rub circles into the adorable little belly all day long like he did last night. 

Unfortunately, they’re still on a case. 

Sam squeezes the tummy in his hands a little, earning a sleepy yelp from his brother who tries to bat the offending appendages away clumsily. Sam leans down to peck his lover on the cheek.

“Get up babe, time to go finish up this case.” 

Dean doesn’t want to get up, he’d rather lay in bed and tend to his tummy, rub it a bit, feels it’s warmth and run his fingertips up and down the slight itch of his stretched sides. But he has to get up. Mumbling under his breath, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, and takes a moment to cradle his tummy in his hands. He’s never been skinny, or flat-bellied, or six-packed. He’s always been stocky, with a little extra pudge around his belly button. Now though, his pale stomach rounds out just an inch or two from his pecks with bloat. It’s temporary, but Dean wonders what it would feel like if this bloated tummy were a little bigger, and a little more permanent. He considers his stomach for a minute longer before ambling into the bathroom for a shower. He doesn’t miss the heated look Sammy is giving his middle. In the shower he lovingly caresses his little bloated tum and thinks about it being bigger. He’d like that, he decides.

Out of the shower, Dean steps back into the bedroom and Sam rakes his eyes up and down his body. He holds his arms out to his lover and Dean steps right in, comforted as Sam’s front presses against his naked back.

“When we’re done with this case, I’m taking you back to the bunker, filling this little thing up everyday and giving you a rubdown every night,” Sam whispers in his lover’s ear as he slides his massive palms around Dean’s shower-slick belly.

Dean shivers involuntarily and pulls in a deep breath.

“Is that a promise?” He manages to choke out huskily. The desire he sees in Sam’s eyes as he looks back at his lover tells him everything he needs to know. 

This belly is just the beginning. 

He scrambles out of Sam’s embrace and rushes to get changed. 

They need to finish up this case ASAP.

 

Sam and Dean have a belly to fill.


	2. Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam & Dean enjoy each others bellies.

Day 3: Mutual Gaining

In the weeks since that last case, Sam and Dean had been taking it easy, getting a taste of domestic life in the bunker. They figured if a case popped up, they’d maybe roll with it, but for now they were enjoying a relaxed atmosphere, and quasi-retirement. They deserved it, after all. 

On top of the relaxing, there was a lot of eating happening as well, of course. After all, Sam had promised to feed Dean up, and he hadn’t been bluffing. The bunker kitchen was stocked with industrial sized amenities, and Sam took full advantage of their newfound free time, and discovered a new passion as well – cooking. Full-sized gourmet meals were being churned out of that kitchen three times a day, and Sam and Dean were finding themselves immensely pleased with this full, domestic life style.

“I stopped by the store and got some apples to make a pie for tonight” Sam announced as he entered the kitchen to see his brother still shirtless and wearing sweats while munching on some chips at the counter. His little starter belly pushed out against the waistband and Sam’s mouth watered at the sudden urge to touch.

“Mmmmm my favorite way to eat fruit” Dean replied cheekily and leaned in for a kiss. He had cheese dust on his lips, but Sam was still sweaty from his run, so it evened out. 

Sam moaned into the kiss, palming the swell of flesh collecting around Dean’s bellybutton before breaking away and stroking his lover’s fleshier sides.   
“Gonna go shower and then we’ll have some breakfast” He said, giving those burgeoning love handles a final tender squeeze.

 

Post breakfast found Sam and Dean cuddling on the couch for a lazy doze. Sam stretched out the length of the couch with Dean draped over him and his head resting on his chest. 

“Someone’s a bit full,” Sam commented as his hand traversed the surface of Dean’s round belly. Where it had been soft and bouncy earlier, it was now stretched and hard, packed tight with waffles, eggs, bacon and every other breakfast food in Sam’s repertoire. He gave it a poke to test the give of the taut surface and his overstuffed lover grumbled “ooof, careful Sammy,” before muffling a burp into his chest. 

“How could I not be full?” Dean lamented dramatically and placed his own hand on top of Sam’s where it had come to rest on the side of his rotund tummy. “When you kept shoving bacon a – aoooooooh” He trailed off as Sam’s hand began moving around his stomach again, tickling it lightly, and inching his fingertips under the slightly too tight waistband of Dean’s sweats.

Sam smiled with self-satisfaction at Dean’s reaction. His lover was always sensitive to the smallest of his touches but with a stuffed belly the sensitivity always increased tenfold. He tucked his chin to his chest to gain access to his lover’s mouth and they kissed and caressed each other lazily, enjoying their time together in the heat of a late autumn morning. 

Dean’s hands stroked Sam’s chest, moving further down until they stopped at the softness he wasn’t sure had been there before. 

He pulled out of the kiss and nibbled lightly on Sam’s lip, squeezing at the softness he found at his lover’s midsection. Sam grunted at the unanticipated increase of pressure on his belly that was, admittedly, a bit more full than he was used to.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s a little incapacitated at the moment” Dean observed lightly, giving Sammy’s bloated belly a lazy pat. Immediately Sam felt himself flushing and tensed.

“Dean, I – I’m not – ” 

“Shhhhh baby I’m not judging, just noticing” Dean placated, looking up into his lover’s eyes. 

“I’ll just have to start running more…”

“Sammy stop.” Dean’s hand on Sam’s belly started moving, trailing small circles around his brother’s bellybutton. “You run everyday. You’re as healthy as it gets, but it’s nice seeing you indulge every now and then – it makes me feel like I’m less alone when I make a pig out of myself.” 

He dragged his palm along the tender skin below his brother’s bellybutton, right above his waistband and Sam emitted a moan of ecstasy. “Besides, it feels good doesn’t it?” he teased, and nipped at Sam’s lower lip again. Another moan and a deep sigh was his brother’s response.

Dean pressed down on the belly he was tending to and Sam couldn’t stop the gurgle that resulted in a small burp, as he blushed even further. Dean’s belly responded with it’s own gurgle as his gorge digested sluggishly. 

“Ya hear that baby? I think they like each other,” Dean noted, earning a playful scoff from his embarrassed lover. And then Dean hauled himself onto all fours, grunting a bit as the sudden movement sent his tummy into turmoil. He straddled Sammy; pushed up his t-shirt to his defined pecs and leaned down to rub his bloated belly against his lover’s, reveling in the feel of Sam’s stretched, hot skin against his own. Ignoring his own tummy’s protests, he bent further to press open and hot kisses, starting at Sam’s chest but continuing down the swell of his belly. Dean knew that in a few hours, once they had both fully digested, Sam’s abs would be back with a vengeance, leaving only the smallest layer of pudge behind, so he figured he should take advantage of this adorably round tummy while it was there. A kiss to his bellybutton left Sam squirming mercilessly and his legs fell open in submission. Dean pushed his shorts down and continued with his sloppy kisses. 

With that, all of Sam’s self conscious thoughts were out the window. 

The only things that mattered in the world were his lover’s warm lips on his tender flesh and the occasional gurgle as their tummies sang to each other in unison.


	3. Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's belly has grown. Sam wants to know how much.

Day 4: Measurement & Weigh-in

 

They were lounging on the bed when the question popped into his head.

More specifically, Sam was lounging against the headboard of the bed with his legs spread wide, one hand sifting lazily through tufts of soft hair, the other hand holding a tin of cake. Dean sat in the v of his brother’s legs, his back resting on Sam’s chest. Every now and then a heaping spoonful of chocolate cake would magically appear in front of his face and he would raise his head a fraction to take it into his mouth, thoroughly sucking on the spoon as Sammy pulled it out. 

After that last spoonful Dean moaned softly, moving his hands from where they were hooked around his brother’s knees and placed them gingerly on the sides of his bare and bulging belly. He was getting pretty full. But the more pressing problem came to mind when he opened his eyes and he suddenly realized how round he looked. 

He knew he had been gaining weight. In fact, he and Sammy had basically decided he should feed his belly up, so logically he knew that he was going to get heavier. His jeans were getting a little tighter especially when he sat down and an inch or two of tummy poured over the fly, belts were becoming less necessary, and on the off chance that he buttoned up his favorite flannel, his belly strained slightly against the front. He was softer, he knew that. But when he put his hands on his belly and opened his eyes, what he saw was a giant orb, a watermelon, a genuine gut; he could only see his toes. Where were the rest of his feet!? He rubbed both palms over his straining and grumbling stomach as he considered it.

“How big do you think this is?” He questioned the universe aloud. It was mostly rhetorical. He was in awe of how round he looked in this moment. But Sam responded anyway.

“Hmmm what?” 

“My gut. How big do you think I’ve gotten?” Dean asked again, this time directly addressing his brother behind him. Sam placed another spoonful of cake in front of Dean’s mouth waiting for him to eat it before considering his question. Dean took it with a reluctant whine – he was really quite full, possibly even on the way to a bellyache – but it was right in front of him and he couldn’t resist, especially with his lover tenderly caring for him. Sam put the spoon down and rested his hands on the stuffed tummy in question. He ran his hands up and down the swell, pausing at the bottom to heft it up, as if gauging the weight of it. This action, of course, unsettled Dean’s crammed insides, and an unexpected belch surfaced.

“Ugh, ‘scuse me” Dean apologized, kneading delicately at the place where his tummy began to bulge out from underneath his pecs, persuading the packed organ to settle. He felt his brother’s low rumble of a chuckle flow through his own body. Sam nuzzled his nose into his brother’s hair and bent his head to talk directly into Dean’s ear.

“Right now, I think you’re a little full” Sam murmured, pressing his fingers into the man’s flesh and feeling the taut resistance that told the story of overindulgence. 

Dean hiccupped, followed by a small burp. “Ughhhh, understatement” he mumbled under his breath, stifling another belch, and then another. He couldn’t stop belching! 

Sam, seeing Dean’s struggle, took a measure of pity on his lover and began giving him a proper belly rub, hoping to soothe and aide digestion. 

“So, at the moment, since there’s almost a full cake in here, on top of a dinner fit to serve a family of four…” Dean whimpered as his brother’s mention of what he had eaten, reminding him of how truly stuffed he was, “… any guess I make probably won’t be accurate.” Dean scoffed at this assessment. Trust Sam to be analytical in the face of belly measurement and weight gain.

“But,” Sam continued, “I’d say you’ve gained about fifteen pounds since we started filling your tummy up” he finished, caressing Dean’s belly in tight circles on both sides of his bellybutton and nibbling on his earlobe. Another soft belch escaped Dean’s lips and he moaned in annoyance. Each burp made his tummy jerk and expand a bit, upsetting his delicate insides further. He was just so full of cake that he couldn’t stifle the burps fast enough. He relaxed further into his brother and succumbed to his giant moose hands working over his bloat.

 

“There’s only one real way to find out though,” Sam spoke up after a few minutes of quiet belly soothing. 

“Mmmmm wha’s that?” Dean slurred. He wasn’t really thinking about the topic in discussion anymore. The weight in his belly was pulling him toward a food coma and Sam’s warm hands were dragging him further into oblivion.

“C’mon, get up. We’ll weigh you,” was Sam’s less than desirable answer. What made it even worse was the way Sammy started to shift underneath Dean, clearly prompting him to get up off the bed. Dean wasn’t having it.

“No’ getting up S’mmy,” Dean mumbled. There was really no way he was moving from this bed. Not since the food coma had progressed this far. “ ‘sides, you said t’wouldn’t be accurate – ‘m all bloated ‘n fat ‘n stuff,” Dean punctuated his protest with a hearty belch, “ugh mmmmmmm.”

“C’mon baby. Don’t you wanna see how much bigger this belly’s gotten?” Sammy purred as he stroked up and down Dean’s softening sides, squeezing his developing love handles, sneaking his hands into the waistband of his sweats and grabbing handfuls of plush hips. “It’ll only take a minute. And then we’ll come right back here and you’ll finish this cake while I stroke this pretty tummy,” he moved his hands from Dean’s hips to his hardening length, giving a firm, teasing tug, “and maybe something else,” he rumbled huskily into his lover’s ear. 

Dean shivered with ecstasy. A part of him wanted to know what the damage was. A part of him didn’t want to move, stuffed and bloated as he was. A bigger part of him wanted to please Sammy, and that same part of him definitely wanted his lover to stroke a couple of things. That part won out.

“Mmmmmmmfine you win” was Dean’s decision. 

It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Dean was virtually pinned down by the boulder that was his belly, and Sam was pinned down by Dean’s weight lying on top of him. With plenty of grunts, groans, and belches, Dean was finally able to work himself up into a sitting position, hands on his belly, cradling it to keep it safe from harm. Sam was able to slip out from behind him so that he could stand in front of his brother, grip his hands and pull Dean up on two feet. 

“You’ll owe me for this Sammy,” Dean bemoaned running his hands along his underbelly to calm the upset. It grumbled and churned in objection to all the movement. 

Sam placed an arm around Dean’s waist, giving the belly a gentle pat. “Cake and a good rubdown,” he reminded his lover, who resigned himself to a trip to the bathroom.

They ambled there slowly, Dean leaning on Sam, hands on his tummy to keep it from moving too much. They finally made it to the bathroom, and Dean stepped on the scale.

“…2…190…197. 197.”

“What were you before?” Sam asked from beside his lover, in awe of the way that belly looked like a glorious half moon when Dean was standing in profile.

“Somewhere in the arena of 180” Dean replied, hands still stroking his underbelly. He had an underbelly!

“That’s over fifteen pounds Dean,” was Sam’s awed remark. Dean stepped off the scale and Sam embraced him from behind, hands connecting over the apex of his lover’s swollen stomach. “Look at this belly, baby. I’m so proud. You’re perfect,” he praised, running his fingers in intricate designs around the sensitive skin, leaving Dean panting with arousal. Sam angled his head so he could whisper directly into his lover’s ear, “Only three pounds until 200.” 

Dean gasped. It was a tangible number. Something he’d get to very soon. He knew it would only go up from there.

Sam’s hands stilled on the sides of his belly and he gave a gentle squeeze, “How about that cake?” He asked.

Dean turned in Sam’s arms, nuzzled his nose into Sam’s neck, “I was promised some strokes too,” he countered, darting his tongue out to lick a wet spot from under Sam’s ear to his collarbone, rewarded by a shiver and a sharp intake of breath from his beautiful boy. 

 

Last time Dean had to move, he did so reluctantly and with plenty of groans and complaints. This time, despite his still tender tummy, Dean couldn’t move fast enough.


	4. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses on the belly.

Day 5: Tummy Kisses

 

“This was a fun idea and all but…ughh mmmmmm…christ” Dean sighed, prodding his tight belly with his fingertips, testing to see if there was any room left in there. There wasn’t. “The tummy did not think it was a good plan,” he finished, moaning a bit more when he realized he was packed too full to even summon up a burp in order to relieve some of the pressure in his gut. 

Sam pushed away the stack of plates in front of his bloated brother so he could lean his elbows on the table and get closer to him.

“Finish mine and then I’ll take you home and give that belly a well deserved kiss” he murmured in a low voice, just loud enough for Dean to hear. The answering moan from his brother was a blissful mix of pure pain and pleasure. Sam knew he was pushing it, especially in public, but he wanted to see just how far Dean could go with a little added motivation. Not that a kiss on the tummy was the most powerful incentive. But Sam knew that Dean took the promise for what it truly was – a night of pampering, something that his gluttonous lover just couldn’t pass up. 

Another pained moan was his stuffed brother’s response, but he clumsily picked up his fork and began the slow process of packing more into his throbbing gut.

Pleased, Sam leaned back in his seat again to watch the show. His own tummy was pretty full too, after inhaling a giant burger with onion rings and half a dish of pasta primavera, and it wasn’t appreciating the compressed position. He rested his hands over his bellybutton, enjoying the weight of satiation and the view before him.

 

They had gone out to eat tonight, to a little restaurant in town. For once, they hadn’t initially expected to stuff themselves beyond capacity, but when they saw the menu and Dean could not decide between the cheesesteak, burger, or roast beef sandwich, Sam had challenged him to get all three. At first Dean had looked at Sam like he had not two, but three heads. But when he saw the heat and challenge in his brother’s eyes, he felt an instant surge of arousal, and knew that he was going to end up with three entrees inside his belly tonight no matter what he wanted – after all, Dean was never one to back down from a challenge.

Their waitress had scoffed at the order – five huge entrees for two guys? – but Dean paid him no mind. Now, however, he was wishing he had a little more willpower against Sam’s challenging gaze. The three meals were sitting heavy and solidly inside his bursting tummy and Sammy still wanted him to eat more! He trudged through the last few bites of pasta primavera, swallowing air along with it in hopes that it would help him burp a little. It was a useless cause, nothing was moving inside of him right now. He took one final bite and dropped the fork into the empty dish with a guttural groan and squeezed his eyes shut. He was so stuffed he couldn’t get a proper breath in. He panted, placing his hands on his bloated sides as he felt them cramp and ache with pressure. He had never been so full in his life! He felt absolutely wrecked. Stuffed with abandon. Stretched beyond repair. Taut as a drum. His belly was pushing out onto his lap, his sides were rounding out over his hips. 

Dean was positive he would never be able to move again. He was stuck in this booth at this restaurant for the rest of his life. He wasn’t even being dramatic. This was his fate. He had met his end. His belly rumbled ominously and he gave an exaggerated, distressed moan. Yep, he thought, this is it for me.

And then he felt warmth seeping through his poor stretched t-shirt right at the crest of his swollen belly. He opened his eyes to see his brother, flushed with arousal, pupils dilated, staring at his tummy, which looked like a basketball hiding underneath his shirt. 

“Dean” Sam breathed when he saw that Dean had opened his eyes. “Dean. Look at you. You’re massive.” His hand gently traversed the surface, mindful of how tender it must feel with how much he’d packed into it.

“Don’t need the reminder, S’mmy. I c’n feel it. Ow,” was Dean’s slurred response. He had just spent the last hour shoving a massive burger and two sandwiches into his mouth and down his gullet, along with half a plate of pasta; he knew exactly what was inside of that belly right now. His eyes fluttered shut again.

“Let’s get you home, baby. I promised you those tummy kisses” his brother whispered excitedly, pulling out enough cash from his wallet to settle the bill and then some. Dean grunted his way out of the booth, stumbling a bit when he discovered how much his center of gravity had changed due to the protrusion coming out from his middle. He leaned forward a bit when standing straight was too painful for his tummy to handle, and he cradled his belly with both hands. 

They made it home and Dean immediately plodded off to lie down on the bed, with Sammy following close behind.

“Kiss it better,” Dean pleaded at his brother. He was laid spread eagle on the bed, his round tummy poking up like a bubble, so overstuffed it defied all gravity and looked as if it could pop at the slightest touch. His t-shirt was losing the battle with his bloated sphere and had risen up to just above Dean’s stretched bellybutton, exposing inches of pale skin. He had undone the button on his jeans, and the zipper had zipped down on it’s own, pushed down by the engorged gut. 

Sammy got on the bed, inside Dean’s stretched legs and pushed his shirt up to Dean’s pecs to reveal the rest of his brother’s stomach. He gazed down at his lover, prone on the bed, and licked his lips. He was so hard and aching at the sight of Dean’s glorious gut and his brother squirming from the heaviness, moaning from the pressure, and panting from the weight he felt. Sam thought he could come untouched just from looking at his lover’s tummy.

“S’full S’mmy. Sooooo stuffed. Mmmmmmm. Need your kisses. Ahhhhh oooooooh” Dean moaned, begging for his brother’s lips and hands on his sensitive body. His nerves were on fire with how stretched tight his skin was and he was completely strung out by the intense pleasure and pain. Sam reacted to his lover’s pleas so quickly that he shook the mattress, eliciting a pained grunt and hiccup as the movement upset Dean’s brimming tummy. Sam gave a sympathetic hum and planted his first kiss directly on his lover’s bellybutton, which was stretched so far by Dean’s enormous dinner that it had almost completely disappeared. He lapped away at the shallow dip of it with his tongue, all the while rubbing the warm tummy with his palms, reveling in how it quivered in time with Dean’s hedonistic murmurs and moans. He kissed a trail down Dean’s happy trail and his lover whimpered urgently when he felt Sam’s tongue dip beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. The arousal was cut short by a deafening roar from Dean’s upset tummy, apparently not happy with the idea of sex at the moment. Dean whined at the pain of the cramp and his hands flew from where they were gripping the sheets to clutching his protesting belly in woe. 

Sammy rose up on his knees. “Maybe we’ll stick to above the waistband for now” he said, smirking at the regretful look his lover gave him at his inability to perform with a bellyache. Sam gave the tender tummy a pat and leaned down to give the poor thing a few more adoring kisses, before spreading himself next to Dean to give his belly a good rub in order to kick start digestion. 

“S’good S’mmy” Dean sighed, surrendering to the fact that his belly wouldn’t allow him to come until it got the proper attention it deserved. After all, it had been put through the wringer with three and a half full dinners tonight; Dean supposed that warranted some praise. “’Sa good belly” he murmured, mostly to himself as he gave his tummy an affectionate pet. He heard Sam’s low chuckle and felt a peck on his cheek as he settled himself further into the mattress.

So, they’d stay above the waistband until Dean’s tummy was settled, and then Sammy would pick up where he’d left off.


	5. Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's still insecure about his tummy. Dean makes sure he isn't.

Day 6: Fight Made up with sexy time and/or food

 

They were in the shower when Dean brought up Sam’s weight gain again.

Well, he didn’t really even bring it up. He was soaping up Sam’s naked body and he ran his hands up and down his lover’s softening abs, pinching the little extra that was gathering underneath his bellybutton and giving it a bit of a jiggle. It was soft and supple; such a difference from his usual hard bodied self. Dean found the little tummy so incredibly endearing in this moment…Sam not so much. 

“Dean stop. Stop,” Sam whined, uncomfortable with how obvious his rounding belly was becoming. It wasn’t his fault he was eating so much lately. Dean was encouraging him. It really wasn’t fair. 

Dean didn’t stop. He just kept pinching at Sam’s flab.

“Cut it out, Dean,” Sam warned again, shooting his brother his classic ‘bitch face’.

“What, baby, I’m just washing you up,” Dean insisted, still toying with the flesh by his lover’s bellybutton. 

“Dean you know what you’re doing. Would you just stop?” This time Sam grabbed his brother’s hands and forced them away from his tummy and took a step backward to get as much distance as he could between the two of them in the tight space of the shower. “I know I’m fat. Why do you insist on pointing it out?” 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Dean began, getting ready to retaliate. He knew he was about to witness a classic diva storm out moment from his lover, and he had to think quickly if he wanted to turn this all around. “I will not let anyone talk about my baby that way.”

Sam scoffed, crossing his arms over his softening stomach and looked up, refusing to make eye contact with Dean.

Dean risked a half a step closer.

“Sammy.” He spoke gently. “Sammy, would you look at me?” Sam huffed like a five year old in the middle of a temper tantrum, but slowly shifted his hurt gaze to his brother. “Sammy, you know I love you, right?” Sam moved his head slightly indicating a nod. “And you love me, right?” 

“You know I do,” Sam murmured quietly, dropping his gaze down to the white shower tiles on the floor. Dean used it as an opportunity to swoop in. He placed his hands on the sides of his lover’s face and forced him to look into his eyes.

“You’re absolutely beautiful. This belly, which I wouldn’t even call a belly, means that you’re safe. We are safe. We have been hard, fighting for our lives, and other people’s lives since we could walk. Now, we have the ability to be comfortable, let ourselves go a bit.” He moved one hand to stroke down Sam’s neck, down his chest, and to place his palm at the center of Sam’s barely-there belly. “I love this belly. It shows me that you’re happy.” Dean rubbed the flesh at Sam’s middle before sliding his hand back to grab at his lover’s muscular backside. The hand that was cupping Sam’s cheek moved down to palm at his tummy, moving lower to that space beneath his bellybutton and above his pubic hair. Sam’s breath was quickening and his pupils were blown wide.

“Are you happy, Sammy?” Dean breathed. An aroused moan was his answer.

Dean dropped to his knees as fast as he could with his age and jiggly belly. He took his lover’s already half-hard cock into his mouth, one hand on his own hardening length, and the other toying excitedly at Sam’s tummy. Sam threw his hands out to press the walls of the shower, spreading his knees as much as he could, and tossed his head back at the sensation of his lover’s mouth on his aching cock and his hand caressing his stomach. 

With the overload of sensations, it wasn’t long until Sam was moaning uncontrollably and feeling his balls tighten up with impending orgasm. Dean’s followed closely behind, and soon both men were fighting to stay upright, and panting heavily at their release. After his breath evened out enough, Dean rose up on shaky knees, drawing Sam’s wet body into his arms. He found his lover’s mouth with his own and their lips moved lazily together as they continued to recover, stroking every inch of each other they could reach.

“I won’t have anyone calling my lover fat,” Dean reinforced, pulling away slightly to look Sammy in the eyes. “Besides, this ain’t fat,” he said, pinching at the little flab. “This,” Dean continued, taking Sam’s hands and placing them on his own belly, which was now rounding out a few inches from his ribs, “is fat.” 

Sam beamed, pawing at the warm flesh of his brother’s tummy.

“You okay?” Dean eyed him thoughtfully.

“Yeah, Dean. I’m okay.” Sam answered honestly. He still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced. He was used to a hard body that he could push to its physical limit. He was used to clean eating and a healthy lifestyle. But he knew Dean was right – why push himself as hard as he always had when they weren’t really in the fight anymore? And Dean would always love him, that was something he never had to question.

“Good,” Dean said, giving Sam’s tummy a final pat. “The let’s dry off and have ourselves some real breakfast,” he gave Sam a leering look, before turning to shut off the water and stepping out of the shower.

Sam looked down to the roundness attached to his abs, considering. He knew that in time this flab would get even rounder. He thought maybe that would be okay. 

He gave his tummy a pat, and then grabbed his towel.

 

He made his way downstairs to where Dean was waiting for him in the kitchen and began eagerly piling up ingredients for breakfast.

 

After all, they had two bellies to feed.


	6. Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean enters an eating competition before he's ready.

Day 7: Eating Competition

 

Dean found it in the newspaper – he still didn’t understand the notion of reading the news on the novel concept of the Internet. The headline stated: October Red Brick Harvest Pumpkin Pie Eating Contest. 

Oh, yeah.

Granted, pumpkin wasn’t Dean’s favorite kind of pie. But it was pie, it was only about two hours away, the winner got $1,000, and Dean was very interested. 

“Oh, so you think you’re ready for that?” Sam teased his brother after Dean had brought it up to him in bed that night. He put a hand on his lover’s gently rounded midsection and stroked half circles with his thumb. “You’ll probably be up against some real fatties,” he taunted, pinching that tummy a little. 

Dean turned in his brother’s embrace, pouting a bit. “I can do it,” He said petulantly, and then he reached over to the lamp to switch it off. Discussion over.

 

The next day, Sam and Dean packed themselves into the Impala and hit the road for Augusta. Dean had studiously declined Sam’s offer of a hearty breakfast before they left and now his stomach grumbled with hunger. He was so ready for some pie. 

Dean pulled in to a parking space and hopped out of the car, eager to get going. Sam stared hungrily at the inch of tummy exposed at the bottom of his brother’s buttoned down flannel as he stretched the kinks out of his back.

“C’mon, Sammy. The pie waits for no man,” he smiled and Sam popped out of the car, falling in stride with his lover. Dean signed himself in, took his name card, and they made their way over to the competition booth. Immediately, Dean felt dwarfed by the sizes of his competitors. Bellies abound!

He nudged Sam’s arm. “Look at these guys, Sammy,” he commented, gesturing to the ball bellies that seemed to defy gravity surrounding him. “They look like they could eat me!” 

Sam chuckled loudly. “You’ll be fine, baby. Pie is your forte.” He situated himself in front of Dean and started unbuttoning his flannel. “I think you’ll be more comfortable like this,” he said smirking, once he had gotten Dean down to his white t-shirt. He bent down to give Dean a kiss and then patted him on the ass to send him up to the table.

Dean placed his name card at his empty spot at the table and took a seat. 

“I’ve been conditioning for this all year, man!” The guy sitting next to Dean said excitedly, patting his round belly that spilled onto his lap, testing his tight t-shirt.

“No kidding, dude. I’ve been chugging water all week to stretch this guy out. Got this in the bag,” The man to Dean’s right boasted, putting both hands on his massive tummy and giving it a shake. 

Dean swallowed, suddenly even more nervous. Sure he’d been eating heartily for a few months now and stuffing his gut more often than not, but had he been preparing for a whole year? Nope. Not even a week. There was no time to back out now, as the announcer called for the twelve men to put their hands behind their backs. 

“When I blow the horn, may the best belly win! 3..2..1…” the horn blasted and Dean dug his face into his first pie. 

The taste was a little cardboard-y, like they had just unboxed and defrosted it, but it was smooth enough, and that first pie went down easy. Dean was so focused, he had tuned out the sounds of the crowd, hollering names and cheering people on. He only had senses for pie. The second was still a pretty easy feat. He felt his stomach filling up, but it was nothing he couldn’t push through. The third was when Dean started regretting his decision not to eat breakfast. His belly was churning, unhappy with all of the sugar and no carbs or protein to soak it up. To make matters worse, he was full! He’d eaten more in the past, stuffed himself to a fuller capacity, but with his belly groaning and gurgling at the sweetness, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last. He wanted nothing more than to clutch his tummy and rub it better, but if he took his hands out from behind his back he would be done. He nosed his way slowly through pie number three like it was a chore, grimacing the whole way. At the last bite, his poor tummy roiled nauseously, and he knew he was done. He put his hands down on the table, using his arms to push his chair back a little, and leaned back with a pained groan.

“Contestant number four is out!” The announcer stated somewhere in the distance, but Dean was too absorbed by the churning in his tummy. He cradled the swell of it in a daze, rubbing idly back and forth, waiting for the end of the contest when Sam could take over belly soothing duties. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he heard cheering, which he assumed meant a winner had been crowned. He felt hands on his shoulders, and looked up belatedly to see Sammy’s concerned face looking down at his. 

“Let’s go, baby,” Sam commanded, grabbing Dean’s arms and helping him get his feet underneath him. Dean’s legs felt wobbly and his head was spinning, everything sounded like he was underwater and it felt like he was moving in slow motion. Distantly he felt his stomach clutching as he tried to walk without tripping on his own feet but he didn’t have the capacity to find the source of the pain. 

Before he knew it, he was sitting down on a bench leaning into Sam’s arms.

He could hear Sammy saying things like, “I know, baby” and “it’s okay” and “I’ll make it better” and Dean thought that was kind of strange until he realized that the breathy moaning sounds that were filling his eardrums were actually coming from him. 

It took a few minutes for the fog to clear, and then Dean startled himself into awareness with a deep belch and a relieved sigh.

“That’s it,” Sam praised, nuzzling his nose into the hair above Dean’s ear. “Feel better?”

Dean considered the question for a moment. Now that the fog had lifted, his senses were coming back to him. He could feel that hi belly was upset as hell, churning, growling and groaning constantly, angry at the inability to process so much sugar at once. He felt jittery from the overflow of sugar, but lethargic and heavy from being stretched and inundated with so much food. But Sam’s cool hands on his stretched and overheating skin felt glorious, and the burp had relieved him of some of the throbbing pressure of overfullness. 

“Mmmmmmmm. D’I win?” He slurred, placing his hands on Sam’s and guiding them to places on his tummy that weren’t getting enough attention.

He felt Sam’s silent laugh against his back and winced a bit when the movement jostled his agitated tummy. “Almost, baby. You came close. But you should see the guy who did win. He’s three times your size,” Sam placated. In reality, Dean hadn’t come close at all. He was the second to back out. Sam was proud of his lover’s valiant effort any way. 

Dean moaned loudly, upset by both his loss and his bellyache.

“Next time,” he promised the universe with a growl and a nauseous belch, followed by a very unmanly whine that had Sam shushing him and gathering him in a closer embrace in order to more precisely soothe Dean’s churning belly.

 

In the back of his dazed and glutted mind, Dean made a mental note to start conditioning now. He would be back next year. And this time, he’d be ready.


	7. Day 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean decide to try hunting again.

Day 8: Hunting

 

“Button up, Dean, we have a hunt,” was all the warning Dean was given before Sam was throwing his jacket at him, arms crossed and tapping his foot with impatience.

“What do you mean we have a hunt?” Dean grunted, not moving except to take a slurp out of his milkshake.

“I mean, darling,” Sam drawled emphatically, knowing Dean hated that particular pet name, “we have a job to do.”

A light switched in Dean’s head as he registered what Sam was saying and his eyes widened with excitement.

“You’re not shitting me, right man?”

“Dean you’ve been begging for a hunt for weeks now and we finally have one, c’mon babe lets go,” Sam urged. It had been months since their last hunt, and while he may have been feigning impatience with Dean’s constant whining and begging, Sam was just as enthusiastic to get back in the game as Dean was. Despite enjoying their semi-retirement, they did sometimes grow eager for that past life. It was only a salt and burn in the town over, but it was something to get them out of the bunker and back in the game to satiate that need.

Speaking of satiation, Dean took one final slurp out of his creamy milkshake and began attempting Sam’s command of “button up.” Literally, Dean had to button his jeans. But it was easier said than done.

“Dean,” Sam whined, his impatience getting out of hand, “let’s get going.”

“Trying here Sammy. I’m uh coming up a little uh short though” Dean huffed, attempting to suck his stomach in to get the button and buttonhole to meet up. The jeans had been getting more and more snug in the past months, but he’d been eating all day today thinking they had nowhere to be and nothing to do. So he’d unbuttoned his jeans after a hearty breakfast that morning and hadn’t bothered with an attempt to do them back up in hours. Of course, in that time he’d been eating almost nonstop, leaving his belly full and rounding out in the open space between the button and the hole. Yeah, buttoning them back up was going to be a challenge.

He slouched down further on the couch until he was all but laying down, his bloated belly sticking up into the air. He drew in a mighty breath, using all of his strength and concentration to suck his tummy in while pulling the flaps of his pants toward each other as hard as he could, exhaling loudly with relief when he was finally able to get the two ends to meet. Now he’d just have to hope they’d stay that way.

Dean looked up to see Sam watching him with an amused grin. And also lust. Definitely lust. Dean fixed him with a wink, and starting rolling from side to side in order to gain enough momentum to push himself to his feet, not wanting to bend at the waist in fear that his button would give up for good. With one immense heave he managed to lift himself upright, wobbling momentarily as he relearned the weight of his loaded belly.

“Those jeans gonna make it?” Sam asked, looking at the precarious, and probably painful, way Dean’s tummy was squeezed into the waistband.

Dean gave his belly a smack, unleashing a burp, and smirked. “We’ll see.” With that, he grabbed his jacket and sauntered off to the Impala under the (accurate) assumption that Sam would follow behind after getting his fill of looking at his rounding out ass.

“So,” Dean began, once they were both situated in the Impala, with Sam behind the wheel so Dean could stretch out and allow his belly to digest and deflate a bit – despite how hot the thought was, they didn’t really want to deal with a popped button in the middle of a hunt. “What’s this hunt we’re going on?”

“Vengeful spirit I think. An antique store found a customer dead, neck snapped at the bottom of the stairs. The building’s janitor was found hanging, his head through a painting. Simple burning of the object he’s attached to should do the trick,” Sam mused as he maneuvered the car down the road.

“In an antique store?” Dean groused, “Every goddamn artifact is probably haunted. Might as well salt and burn the whole place.”

Sam gave him a side-eyed glance. “Quit your bellyaching,” he quipped, earning a glare from Dean, whose belly was indeed aching, trapped in the confining jail of his unforgiving jeans. The glare turned into a contented smile, however, when Sam took one of his hands from the wheel and rested it on Dean’s tummy. The familiar touch was enough to placate his bloated lover.

In no time at all the hunters arrived at their destination – a storefront marred by caution tape with the creatively named “ANTIQUES” signpost standing outside the door. They weren’t donning their typical FBI suits – Dean doubted he could fit into his at this point – but it was a busy late afternoon in the quaint town, and they figured they could fit in well enough as interested antique enthusiasts.

They walked up to the small crowd gathered outside the antique store and began their casual interactions with the townspeople, garnering responses and gathering information. Dean was grateful he had digested enough to keep his bodily eructations to a socially accepted minimum.

Upon listening to the stories of the townspeople and the frantic shop keep, the boys determined there was an old book in that shop who’s owner, a man named Martin Zymaris, was killed in an instigated house fire, and who was apparently out for blood.

Satisfied they had their perp and knew which object to burn, Sam and Dean took to wandering the town to wait for an appropriate time to break into the shop and burn the object.

“Feel good to be back?” Sam asked his lover, settling his arm around Dean’s waist as they moseyed down the street.

“Feels nice to be useful every now and then,” Dean mused before stopping short and breaking Sam’s stride, “Mmmm but it’d feel even better to have some of those in me.” Sam followed Dean’s eyes to where they had landed on a storefront full of decadent pastries.

“Not full anymore I take it?”

“Always room for dessert,” was Dean’s answer. “Besides,” he reasoned, “we gotta kill time somehow.” Dutifully, Sam followed his lover into the shop, and they soon found themselves nestled into a corner table with Sam nursing a coffee and watching with interest as Dean made his way through a lobster tail, a cupcake, and then a piece of apple pie.

With the last bite of pie washed down with a sip of Sam’s coffee, Dean leaned back with a satisfied groan and placed a hand over his once again bloated gut. For a second he thought about running his thumb underneath his waistband to give himself a little more room, but he knew with the button being tested as it already was, that extra pressure on it might be the last straw. So, he settled on rubbing his tummy and valiantly ignoring the pinch of his jeans as Sam finished his coffee.

“Alright, baby, ready to go put an end to the old guy?” Sam said, standing to help Dean out of his seat.

“Yeah,” Dean grunted as he was heaved out of his chair, “as long as we go slow,” he all but pleaded, muffling a burp and giving his belly a soothing pat.

Sam eyed him with concern. “You gonna be okay to do this?” He asked, not even attempting to hide his worry.

“I’ll be fine, Sammy,” he huffed in annoyance. And then he huffed again because everything was feeling a little too tight at the moment. Sam took him for his word, and they left the bakery to make their way to the back entrance of the antique shop.

Dean was breathing heavily as he relied on Sam to pick the lock. Hunting was taxing on a full stomach, he decided.

Quietly they snaked their way through the shop that was brimming with old, musty objects, flashlights leading the way, and hands on their guns tucked in their jackets. Sam gestured at an old bookshelf, and they made it a few steps in that direction before the gust of cold air and the flickering lights set in.

Dean spotted the ghost of the old man first and called out to Sam in warning as he grabbed the first metal object he could find – a lamp – and swung it at the creature in hopes that it was iron. Sam took the distraction as an opportunity to search for the particular book associated with this ghostly figure of Martin Zymaris.

He heard Dean yell “fuck” and turned around just in time to see the ghost throw his lover into a glass display case. With renewed vigor Sam turned to the bookshelf, listening to the sickly groans coming from Dean, and taking those as satisfaction that his lover was at least still conscious. Finding the right title, he grabbed it, and dug out the zippo lighter from his pocket, turning around just in time to see Martin about to come toward him.

“Say goodnight, Martin,” Sam spoke as the corner of the book took to the lighter, and Martin went up in flames with a scream before vanishing for good.

A rumbling belch following by a groan coming from the other side of the room startled Sam out of his revelry and he rushed to his brother’s side.

“Dean? You okay?” He asked, panicking as he began to run his hands up his lover’s arms, to his head, searching for wounds.

“’M – HIC – ‘kay,” Dean insisted. “He just – HIC – upset my tummy,” Sam’s lover moaned, hiccuping again and placing his hands on his still bloated belly with a dazed pout. Sam let out a relieved chuckle at Dean’s response, and, after being unable to find anything bleeding or broken, started to help his lover up with a grunt.

They were almost out of the store when Dean startled Sam with a gasp that sent Sam into panic thinking maybe he had missed an injury. “Sammy,” he said with wide eyes, rucking his shirt up and placing a hand on his tummy. “I think I’m gonna need some new pants.” Sam looked at Dean with confusion and then burst out with hysterical laughter as he realized what his brother was talking about – sure enough, where Dean’s pants had been valiantly attempting to contain his belly all night, the force of Dean’s slide down the wall from the display case had been the last straw. His button had finally given up, and the flaps of his pants were now hanging open.

Sam laughed at his lover’s astonishment, and covered Dean’s hand on his belly with his own as they continued their way out of the store.

“I’m thinking maybe this semi-retirement should be permanent,” Sam ventured.

Dean hummed, thinking that he definitely agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa a new chapter! I'm not totally happy with this, mostly because I'm horrible at writing actual plots, so I mainly skipped over the whole hunting part. Oops! But I wanted to get something up because it's been MONTHS and I didn't want anyone to think I'd abandoned it (since I promised not to). So I do hope you enjoy. Comment and let me know what you think, give me ideas, prompts, I don't want this to get boring.
> 
> Hopefully once I graduate in a week I can update this more regularly. It'll be like...my day job (hooray unemployment!)


	8. Day 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some shopping!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This is so incredibly pointless and fluffy. It's really just belly kink for my own enjoyment, so if that's not your thing, don't read!

Day 9: New set of clothes

 

In reality, Dean hadn’t put on that much weight. Yet. Just 15 to 20 pounds...last time he checked, anyway. It showed in his gently rounded belly, the developing roll of pudge that pushed over his tight waistband and the slightly strained buttons of his flannels. His ass was getting rounder, a development Sam was quite fond of. His sides were softening, giving him some nice love handles that Sammy just loved to handle (ha). But really, it was nothing too dramatic.

It was just that he loved to be stuffed full. He loved pushing his belly to the limits. His stomach was almost always either crammed with food, or bloated from digestion. So, although in his flaccid, not stuffed state, his current clothes served him just fine for now, his bloated belly couldn’t handle the constant discomfort of the pinched waistline and the straining buttons. If he was going to eat himself to a bellyache on a daily basis, he thought, he might as well be in comfortable clothes. And after being flung against the wall and popping the button off of his jeans during their last hunt, both Sam and Dean decided it was time to do some shopping. 

So, on the day of their planned shopping trip, Dean made sure to stuff himself full before hand, because DUH, if he wanted pants that fit him comfortably when stuffed, he should probably be stuffed when he tried them on. 

Sam walked in when Dean was halfway through his plate of bacon, leaning back in his chair with one hand rubbing circles on his t-shirt pulled tight over his swollen belly, soothing the ache of early morning overeating, while the other shoved the bacon methodically into his mouth.

Sam leaned in to give his lover a peck on his cheek and a pat on the tummy, feeling how tight it already was. “You gonna be able to shop around like this?” Sam smirked, shifting to behind where Dean sat in his chair at the table. He ran his hands through the tufts of soft hair on his lover’s head, stroking them gently down his still well-defined jawline, landing on his still (for now) firm pecs before slipping a hand down the collar of his v-neck tshirt and landing on the hot skin of Dean’s stuffed belly. 

Dean hissed and shivered when Sam’s cool hand made contact with his overworked, stretched tummy. For a moment they just breathed together, one of Sam’s hands tucked into Dean’s shirt, the other cupped around his jaw, his thumb stroking the skin underneath his earlobe. The peaceful trance was broken by a low rumble starting beneath Sam’s hand and making it’s way loudly up Dean’s esophagus. And then Dean burped.

Sam chuckled, planting a kiss in his lover’s soft hair and extracting his hand from his brother’s belly with one final stroke.

“Whew” Dean blew out a breath, moaned contentedly and cupped his stuffed gut with both hands. It was firm to the touch and distended, at that crucial brink of stuffed without being overstuffed – the state of being he took much pleasure in. He burped once more and pushed his chair out from the table. 

“Oof, yup I am ready to go. Let’s get this belly some clothes to grow into, Sammy,” Dean said, rubbing his tummy as he heaved himself up. 

\------

The shopping process took some actual trial and error. Dean couldn’t even remember the last time he’d bought clothes – he’d been pretty much the same size for years now, and the majority of his shirts were handed down from their father. The tag in his jeans was so worn from wear that they couldn’t even read what size they were. 

“I’ll just bring some options,” Sam had said, and left Dean in the dressing room, happy to let his brother do the actual shopping for him.

“Jesus,” Dean murmured as he gazed at his reflection in the full-sized dressing room mirror. He turned to his side and admired his bloated profile, running his hand over his shirt, still stretched taut by his full gut, rounding out from his pecs. He dragged his shirt up slightly and ran his fingers lightly, tickling the inch of exposed skin above his tight waistband. He hissed at the shiver that ran through him, closed his eyes as blood started to rush to his dick, mind blown by how sensitive and arousing a light touch to his underbelly could be.

“Am I interrupting something?” Sam’s husky voice startled Dean out of his revelry, and he opened his eyes with a knowing smirk, meeting Sam’s widely blown pupils in the mirror. 

“I got bored,” was Dean’s cheeky reply, and it was all Sam could do to not maul his lover right there in the middle of the department store. Instead, he threw a pile of clothes at him, raised an eyebrow, and took a seat on the tiny bench in the room. 

And Dean gave him quite the show, huffing a bit and struggling under the bulge of his belly to undo his buttons, the slight jiggle of his softer body as he wiggled his jeans off and kicked them off to the side, the bounce of his tummy as he pulled his too-tight shirt up and over his head, the way the waistband of his boxer briefs warped to accommodate the heavier belly. Sam’s mouth watered thinking about how much wide Dean was looking after only a few months; how much wider he’d look in a few months more; in a year – they had their whole lives now.

“You did this on purpose!” Dean exclaimed as he squirmed and wrestled a pair of jeans up his chunkier hips. After a few minutes of struggling, it appeared Dean had realized it was a futile effort and he now glared accusingly at Sam through the mirror, the skin tight jeans hanging open beneath his rounded ass.

Sam, to his credit, didn’t even attempt to play dumb at getting Dean a size that he knew would be too small. Instead he smirked and then gave his best pout, “I just wanted a bit of a show.” Dean rolled his eyes, but, having always had a flare for the dramatic, gave Sam one hell of a show, moaning and grunting his way out of the too tight pants, rubbing his belly with the effort, leaving Sam achingly hard with nothing to do but palm his dick, willing himself to get it together.

\-----  
In the end, Dean ended up with a pair of 34’s, which fit nicely for now, plenty of 36’s to grow into, a pile of large henleys, and a few new flannels, leaving him plenty of wiggle room for his expected growth.

Mainly, though, he ended up with a very horny lover, and an extremely hungry belly, both things that needed immediate attention. Sam was happy to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg. I absolutely do not apologize for the massive amounts of fluff and pointlessness and cheese.   
> I do, however apologize for all mistakes. And also my very long absence. I'm back, I think!


	9. Day 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of food. Lots of belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am once again not apologizing for the fluff and pointlessness. But apologizing for mistakes.
> 
> Belly kink and porn ahead, so if you don't like, don't read!

Day 10: All day stuffing

It wasn’t exactly planned, but when Sam woke up early one morning and rolled over, his hand automatically finding Dean’s soft tummy as if pulled in by a magnet, he decided that the most productive way to spend the day would be to fill his lover’s belly. So, regretfully, he got up, went for his morning run (shorter than it used to be), filled a basket at the grocery store, and headed home to cook.

By the time Sam was ready to plate breakfast, Dean had padded his way into the kitchen, perking up a little more at the mouthwatering smell of bacon.

“Mmmmm Sammy, what’s the special occasion?” Dean questioned, letting out a massive yawn and stretching his arms above his head, exposing a delicious strip of chubby belly and furry happy trail that Sam positively ached to kiss. 

Sam smiled hugely, gesturing for Dean to take a seat, and placed a brimming plate of food in front of him.

“Just thought you might be hungry this morning,” He replied, pouring a mug of coffee and sliding it over to his lover.

“Huh. I guess I did work up an appetite last night,” Dean winked cheekily, talking around a mouthful of food. Sam flushed at the memory.

“Oh god” Dean groaned, not unlike he did last night, “Sammy this is amazing.” 

Sam beamed, and sat opposite his brother, nursing a cup of coffee and keeping an attentive eye on the level of food on Dean’s plate. As soon as it came close to running out, Sam leaned over, dumping another heaping spoonful of eggs, a couple more pancakes, the last of the bacon, and another cinnamon bun onto his plate for round two.

It wasn’t until round three was piled high onto his plate that Dean even thought to question why he was still being served breakfast. He put a hand on his belly, which was now starting to bloat out with the huge amount of breakfast foods he had just consumed, although he wasn’t nearing full yet – which was mind blowing in itself…had his capacity really grown that much? 

“Jesus, Sammy, what’re you up to?” He grunted, muffling a burp and patting his belly before finishing off his coffee with a few loud gulps.

“Come on, babe, I just don’t want any leftovers,” Sam smiled innocently, placing the last cinnamon bun onto Dean’s plate, “and I know you can take it,” he goaded. Dean groaned, but obediently dug in. This plate took longer, Dean was starting to feel packed tight, and it was a lot of rich food for this early in the morning. He broke it up with sips of coffee, occasional belly rubs, and plenty of burps, until he finally swallowed down the last bite with a groan as he leaned back in his chair to take some of the pressure off of his tightening tummy.

“Oof,” He moaned, palming at his bloated gut, which he noticed with mild interest, was now grazing his thicker thighs. “Gotta go lay down,” Dean moaned again, pressed a fist into the crest of his stuffed gut and let out a hearty belch. 

Sam followed behind as Dean grunted his way into the living room, cradling his overloaded belly. He laid down, propped up on the couch pillows, and Sam sat on the floor next to him. Sam pulled Dean’s shirt up all the way over the mounding crest of his belly, because belly rubs on skin were the best kind of belly rubs. He soothed his hands up and down the tight skin, pressing in gently with his fingers to aide digestion, and listened to Dean’s contented moans. It wasn’t long until Dean had completely fallen asleep, allowing Sam to get some snacks ready until lunch. 

When Dean woke it was to a growling belly, begging for food. Instead of wondering how he could possibly be hungry again, after all of that breakfast, he pushed himself up from the couch, pulling his shirt down, and wandered into the kitchen. He found Sam standing at the counter, and he snuggled his round tummy into the curve of Sam’s back, nibbling softly on his ear, happy about how perfectly the two of them fit together like this.

“Got any food?” He whispered, and Sam turned in his embrace, pressing his soft, but flat belly into Dean’s round one. He grabbed the two chunky love handles that now rounded out past the waistband of Dean’s sweats, and placed his lips on his lover’s for a tender kiss that tasted vaguely of coffee. 

“You’re hungry? After all that?” He breathed against Dean’s lips. Dean moaned, “Mhmmmm.” Sam was more than happy to oblige. He pulled away from the kiss, gave Dean’s belly a squeeze, and told him to go lay back down on the couch, “I’ll serve you today.” And he watched as Dean’s rounded ass bounced slightly on his way out the door.

Snacks consisted of chocolate milk, buttered popcorn, and strawberries that Sam fed to Dean as they watched some random action movie that happened to be on the TV. Dean’s belly was happily satiated by the time lunch rolled around. 

“We’re going out for lunch,” Sam declared, just as Dean was thinking about digesting his gorge with another nap.

“What?” 

“Go put on some real pants.”

Dean huffed. With one hand gripping his belly and the other planted on the arm of the couch, he pushed himself up and went to the bedroom to put on some pants.   
\------

Lunch was at one of their favorite classy burger joints, and amazingly, Dean’s stomach growled in anticipation as they slid into a booth. Sam took charge, ordering an extra large milkshake, burger, onion rings, and a side of mac n cheese for Dean, a sandwich for himself. 

Dean was moaning, making happy little noises as he munched away at his meal and Sam was beginning to regret going out to eat in public as the front of his jeans began to tighten. Despite the massive breakfast and sugary snacks, Dean seemed to be having little trouble as he inhaled the mac n cheese and sucked down the milkshake. A second milkshake was ordered, and Dean was finally slowing down with about a third of his giant burger left. 

“Man, this is heavy,” Dean commented, as he took another gulp of the milkshake. Sam watched with interest as one of Dean’s hands disappeared under the booth table, probably toying with the button of his jeans.

“Jeans are getting tight,” he winced, shifting a bit in his seat, confirming Sam’s suspicions.

“Hmmm. Too bad we’re in public,” Sam replied, lacking any hint in sympathy.

“Bitch” was Dean’s smiling response. And then he muffled a belch.

“Jerk” Sam said and dumped the rest of his fries onto Dean’s plate.

By the time Dean had worked through his entire meal he was panting, leaning all the way back in his seat, his belly begging for relief from his pinching button, and sweat beading his hairline. For a few moments he just sat there, gripping his belly, trying to work up a burp or two. Sam, for his part, was salivating at the sight of Dean’s tight belly, straining his t-shirt, and, with the way Dean was leaning, coming just inches from touching the table. 

“Nnnng Dean. Let’s get you home,” Sam panted, practically moaning from arousal. He dumped some money on the table, walked around the side and stuck out his arm to help his lover out of the booth. Top heavy as he was, Dean took a moment to gain his balance. Sam wrapped one arm around Dean’s shoulders, and the other coming to rest on his firm belly, because he just needed to touch. 

Back at home, Sam got Dean laying down on their bed and unbuttoned his torturous pants, to which Dean sighed in relief. 

“Sleep for a bit, baby. Dinner’s in a few hours.” Dean’s eyes shot open and he groaned.

“You can’t be serious, Sam,” he whined. But the look on Sam’s face told him that he was very serious. Dean was in for a very long, and filling night. Like before, Sam sat next to his lover on the bed and pulled his shirt up. Dean’s belly was a bubble of distention, round and firm, and hot to the touch. Sam marveled at it as he put his cool hands on the hot skin, he grazed his thumb over the stretched belly button, and dragged his hands up and down gently, so as not to upset his belly. It would be even bigger, after tonight, Sam smiled. All of the heavy food in his belly dragged Dean into a peaceful slumber once again, and Sam kept up the belly rub for a while longer, hoping to jumpstart digestion so that Dean would be ready for dinner. 

The next time Dean awoke he could smell something heavenly coming from the kitchen. His belly was gurgling, and he made his way to the bathroom to spend some time in there. Thinking ahead, he kicked off his jeans that he couldn’t be bothered to button, and pulled on a pair of sweats with a forgiving waistband. His shirt was doing a decent job of covering up his belly for now, so he let it be, and made his way into the kitchen once again, one hand rubbing his tummy.

“Ah, I was just about to come get you,” Sam said as his lover walked in, “Hungry?” Dean laughed at the prospect. Hungry? No. But he wasn’t quite as stuffed anymore, and he was sure he could eat, especially since dinner smelled so amazing.

“I could eat,” was his neutral reply. 

“Good, it’s ready. Let’s sit in the living room. Watch a movie.”

They put on The Avengers, and Sam brought the entire pan of lasagna and basket of bread in with him, along with a bottle of red wine. 

When Sam had finished his plate and Dean was almost done with his second, Sam snuggled into Dean’s side and slid his hand up under his lover’s shirt. “Keep eating,” he purred, stroking Dean’s tight belly. With everything he packed in there today, Sam was amazed that Dean was still going strong, albeit slowly. As Dean’s pace faltered, as his legs spread wider to accommodate his bloat, and more agonized groans were interspersed as he swallowed, Sam’s hand started working it’s way lower down on his ballooning belly, “accidentally” bumping over his hard length on every down stroke. Dean’s panting became more enthused. His belly was encroaching on his lung space, and his arousal was reaching full force. The lasagna was done, the bread demolished, and Dean took a final swig of his wine, his cheeks flushed a bright red with overindulgence and arousal. He hiccupped and groaned, a hand on his belly, trying to keep it from jostling too much while he rubbed his gut and burped loudly.

Sam leaned in close, pulling a carton of ice cream up from the floor – when had he brought that in? Dean wondered – “you’re going to eat this, while I”– he palmed Dean’s dick through the layers of fabric – “eat this” he finished with a growl and Dean could only whimper and nod. 

Sam eagerly got to his knees in front of Dean on the couch and tugged at the underwear and sweats, prompting Dean to lift his hips with a groan and a belch as the movement jostled his overloaded belly, pulling them down far enough to expose his hard and leaking cock.

“Eat” Sam growled. 

And Dean. Dean was so full. He ached with fullness. His belly was round, full as a tick, ready to pop at the slightest poke. His skin was pulled so tight it itched and he was afraid to touch it, for fear it might rip. But, despite his almost unbearable fullness, he dug his spoon into the carton of ice cream and moaned around the spoonful, eating for his Sammy.

“Good boy. Keep eating” Sam growled, taking Dean’s full length into his mouth and sucking greedily, while moving one hand to Dean’s incredibly sensitive underbelly.

Dean let out an animalistic moan, bombarded by sensations, and started up a rapid, desperate pace of digging into his ice cream and sucking down the spoonful.

He looked down, past the swell of his absurdly bloated belly, at the bob of his lover’s head on his dick, Sam’s hand moving up and down on his tender gut, and it was almost too much.

“Nnnnnng Sammy. Oh Sammy. So full – gonna explode – FUCK, S – Saaaaaaamm oh oh god” Sam’s pace quickened, and Dean sucked one more spoonful of ice cream down before dropping the carton onto the couch along with the spoon and clutching his overloaded belly, bucking his hips as far as his swollen form would allow. He was gonna blow. Whether it be his belly or his dick first, Dean didn’t know.

“Oh god Sammy – Sam – Ahhhh Sam!” He cried as he spilled into his lover’s throat. Sam eased off after sucking him down and Dean panted with pleasure as Sam kissed him greedily, his hand working his own dick, before spilling onto Dean’s distended belly, swallowing his scream of pleasure in the kiss.   
Sam fell onto the couch beside his lover, catching his breath. 

It was a few long moments before Sam and Dean could speak. Dean’s hand came to rest on his belly, and he began to rub his lover’s come in. Sam leaned in to grab a kiss. 

“You ate a lot today,” He whispered against Dean’s lips.

That prompted a chuckle from Dean, followed by a low groan when his belly clutched a bit. 

“Yeah, Sammy. I’ll say.”

Sam’s hand came to join Dean’s on his round belly, rubbing lovingly.

“Let’s go to bed,” Sam suggested, and he eased off the couch, offering Dean his hand.

“Let’s,” Dean said, taking Sam’s hand and holding it all the way to the bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a very slow going process, but I promise not to abandon it! Comments and critiques are welcome! Or make suggestions! I'm open to it all.


End file.
